


Through Stillness

by Oparu



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She needs time because this child can't be now, not with her the way John's left her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Stillness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



> I'm in the minority where I think Helen might have halted her pregnancy and kept Ashley with her. This is a stab at that idea.

She sits in the dark because it's easier to focus. Eyes shut, breathing slowed, out of her corset and petticoats because she needs to feel her body, not the fabric. John was right, her gift is more subtle. John can teleport, skipping through the demon's realm until he is one of them. James can see worlds in a grain of sand and unveil their workings. Nigel is here then not, yet he is. Nikola is all that was of the great race of vampires.

Helen's only still. She was concerned initially that she had no gift, but when a sample of her blood survived, untainted, in one of her iceboxes for days without breaking down, she began to wonder. She can only slow small things at first, mentally slowing her digestion so she doesn't have to eat. Slowing her heart rate and letting the world slip past her. It takes immense amounts of concentration, powers of will she's not sure she has, but she must.

She must because she cannot have John's child. She cannot raise a son or daughter as a bastard here, not now. She cannot hide this baby away because she cannot bear to look on her face and see John. What mother will she be if she hears her son laugh and can only cry for what she's lost?

Even with her money, which has been well invested and is enough to live comfortably, this child will have no life now. Not now.

She stumbled onto the ability entirely by accident, staring at a cut on her hand in the lab. Not now, she thought, full of anger as her blood welled on her skin. Then it stopped, slowed to a crawl of ruby beads instead of trickling across her hand. It was only a moment, when her concentration broke, it was over and her hand bled rapidly into her handkerchief. It has been weakening as time passes. The source blood is weakening, becoming part of her and losing its power. She has to unlock this soon, before she's too human again, before she loses her nerve, before the pregnancy is too much to hide.

Helen risks her own heart first. Listening through a stethoscope as the she slows the rate to a crawl. When the blood to her brain slows too, she comes out of it, minutes later when only moments have passed for her. She gives herself a full physical, checking and rechecking until the grey dawn is clawing at her windows.

She's fine.

She slowed her own heart to a crawl and she's absolutely fine.

James doesn't believe her at first, but he's kind to the breaking point and nearly as fragile as she after the loss of John.

"Promise me you won't try to break the trance."

"Helen-"

She grabs his hand away from her chest, holding it tight. "James, I require your word."

"I trust you." He lowers his hand, politely averting his eyes from her breasts beneath the transparent linen shift.

Helen slows her breathing and then slows her heart. She steals beats from it a moment at a time, dragging herself down into a crawl while the seconds on the clock above her race over her head. It takes all of her concentration, straining at her mind. She thinks of John and forces herself to push harder, to slow herself so that she is the still point in the centre of the universe.

James' face flutters, changing expression so quickly she fears he's seized until she realises she's the one still.

When she slips back into reality, James holds her cheek, astonished.

"Ninety-eight seconds between two of your heartbeats, minutes when there should be fractions of a second. Helen--"

"I have to be able to stall, freeze development, halt--" She shuts her eyes, frantically keeping back tears. "If I can control myself, I should be able to stop development, put it into embryonic diapause."

He shakes his head. "You can't create it through force of will. You might be able to put yourself into some kind of trance, but you're the one who told me that it must be dependent on the source blood still reacting with your tissues. A latent ability that will fade over time."

She can't look at him. "Then I'll need more."

"You can't--"

"Mendel suggests that the traits of the parent may be passed on to the child. This child-" she can't bring herself to call it hers, "- may share enough of my ability to survive diapause."

"Or be enough like his father to kill." James' strong voice falters and now she's the one shaking her head.

If it comes to it, if she has to, she'll end this before birthing a destroyer of life. "All the more reason to buy ourselves some time. I think one teleporting serial killer is enough for one century, don't you?"

"You don't know if it'll even work."

She tries to find refuge in procedure. "We could test it, use my blood and mice and an extract of the source blood."

"Even if we use mice, we're wasting time." James looks down at her belly, his eyes those of a scientist now. "The younger the embryo, the better it will take to diapause. We need to isolate the part of the source blood that allows you to approach a hibernation-like state and introduce it to the uterus."

They share a glance, reminding each other how dangerous that is. They were all so innocent once, before they learned what darkness hid in vials and syringes, waiting to be loosed on the world.

Her concern for her own safety is minimal. She's entirely out of options and she has no choice but to believe in that her demon can also be her saviour. Vampires don't age. She's not ageing. Why not the embryo within her too?

Three days in the lab with little sleep. They survive on tea and the meals her unquestioning housekeeper continues to supply. Helen's hair falls loose on her shoulders. James lets his braces hang from his trousers and works in his undershirt. It's an intimate frenzy of frantic ideas, and then, abruptly, it's over. She holds the syringe in her hand and James believes enough to meet her eyes.

He guides the needle, she pushes the little metal plunger and both of them hold their breath. Helen nearly slows hers but she's too exhausted for any kind of concentration. James falls into bed next to her and they sleep, hands across her belly, just in case.

One night passes, and she wakes with the same brutal nausea she's been fighting. James sits with her over the basin, tucking her hair back. The next day it's less, and she stays in bed, head on his chest. Her breasts start to soften, returning to how they were instead of the swollen, sore things they'd become. She waits, teetering on a razor's edge for signs of miscarriage, but there's no blood and no pain.

James enlists Nikola and together they increase the sensitivity of her stethoscope fivefold. She and James take turns, listening for the heartbeat that must still exist. They hear nothing and there is no way to know if anything still exists to hear. Helen and James watch her like tandem hawks, waiting for signs that never appear.

When hormones are discovered, years later, she spends the night with him, working to search her blood for signs of a half-faded dream postponed. She passes that pregnancy test, and another each year for the next eight decades. She carries her daughter through war and famine, through the changing of the world as it becomes a better place. Electricity moves into every part of their lives. Airplanes follow cars, and jets and helicopters are not far behind. Her Sanctuaries span the globe and abnormals can count on her for succour.

She sees the fuzzy hint of an embryo on an early ultrasound screen. Helen holds that image more precious than the photos of her father. Her child, despite everything, is still with her having followed her through history. She starts to smile more, even hum. One morning, while the sun breaks over the horizon, her breasts ache. She puts it out of her mind and goes to work, but she's tired and her head is wooly.

She spends the day reading before she calls James. She sits through three rings, nearly ready to give up.

"I've decided to revive an old project."

"What is it now, Helen? Your submarine again?"

She smiles up at the warm wood of the ceiling. "Something older than that and much more demanding."

James guesses politely a few more times, then the line holds silence. It stretches between them across the Atlantic and the whole of North America, as if speech needed wings to travel.

"Helen. I'll be on the first flight over."

By his fourth day there, she's miserable with hormones and he can't stop smiling. He sits with her in her office, side by side on the sofa, talking about all that's changed since the last time they talked of children who might resemble her. He rearranges much of his schedule, taking a sabbatical she's been trying to convince him to use for the last decade.

"This project is dear to me. Dearer than most."

She holds his hand, squeezing her fingers tight. "I never thought we'd be here, this far into the future."

James laughs and sets down his tea. "I'm still waiting for men to live on the moon. The future has yet to deliver much of what I was promised."

"It's a different world." Helen's free hand rests on her belly, now full of promise instead of dread. "A much different world, even if it has yet to live up to your expectations."

"The lack of flying automobiles notwithstanding, I think my expectations have been far inferior. Certain things have greatly exceeded what I could have possibly imagined." He meets her eyes, then holds her cheek. "You have been a mother to thousands who needed one. Imagine how great you will be with just one child to focus your energies."

She wants to blush and cry, but manages to kiss his cheek before burying herself in his arms. "She'll need an uncle to run to when I've driven her mad."

"I shall prepare myself." He settles her against his chest and holds her close. "I must confess I've saved a few toys over the years."

"Oh?"

"I thought, well, I suppose I thought I could always donate them, if they weren't required. I'm rather pleased they'll be used." His chuckle warms her from the pit of her stomach.

"You've already spoiled my baby, and she's not even here."

"I plan to be an uncle of which legends are written. Just you try and stop me, Helen."

She leans up, kissing his cheek. "I doubt I could."


End file.
